Sunday, November 30, 2014

Resting on a stick under a setting sun, a Wodaabe nomad is watching her mother milk a zebu
cow. After her mother will be done, the girl will untie the calf behind her from a
calf rope and bring it to the cow behind them. The suckling calf will get the
milk flowing, and after a while the girl’s mother will take her turn milking
that other cow.

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Market in Pisac, an Andean
village in the Inca Sacred Valley of Peru’s Cusco Province.

View many more pictures below, at the end of the following article.

Markets
are great windows on foreign cultures. There, among country people who dress
and behave and speak in ways less subject to outside influences, I have learned
much of what I know of the world.

South
American markets are among my favorites. They are as different from each other
as are their villages and people. They vary more over any hundred- mile stretch
between Colombia and Argentina than they do between any two points of the
immense Canadian-American territory, or between any European countries. Such
great differences are due to the varied geography, climate (determined by
latitude, altitude, or both), races, cultures, and dress. But also in the
agricultural and manufactured products sold and the type of vehicles or animals
used for the transportation of people and merchandise.

Markets in
South America may offer horse saddles and bridles, donkey packs, and lassos
(distinct styles between Mexico and Argentina); colorful textiles and rugs;
Panama hats; jewelry; llama wool and fat; coca leaves; dolphin-sized fish, and
an impressive array of grains, vegetables, fruits, and spices. Baskets and hats
have all regional designs.

Not all
markets offer varied products. In Colombia, for example, Armenia has one
dedicated only to plantains, while that of El Peñol only offers cases of
tomatoes. Yet they are as quaint and striking as any. Their own colors come from
the looks of their chivas, shiny
refurbished World-War-II Willys jeeps, and their people attire.

The chivas
are rural buses built of artistically painted wood over truck beds. The
passengers who do not fit inside, on way too tightly spaced wooden benches, crowd
up on the roofs over fifty-kilo bags of coffee and rice. The Willys sway dangerously under awesome
loads tied with ropes and of people precariously balancing at the back. And the
typical male campesino has his own
distinctive way to dress—sombrero, ruana
(poncho), a sheathed machete on his belt, and, hanging from his shoulder, a leather wallet big enough to hold a couple
of books. Those Paisas, as they are
known, may occasionally be as blond and tall and wealthy as the average German,
and yet walk the streets barefoot.

At any
market down south, you'll see more than one opportunist. At that of Sevilla,
another Colombian town, I saw a horse wearing a sign that said that it would be
raffled on the day and for the same winning number as that of a national
lottery

Not
accustomed to seeing many foreigners, Colombian markets are among the friendliest.
Vendors and shoppers always call me over for a chat. And though not rich, they
often insist in buying me a beer or a Coke.

Traditionally,
markets have been held in town squares. Some towns, like Riobamba, Ecuador, hold
them in seven different squares on the same day, according to the product.
Others, in the same country, like Ambato, sprawl them all across town, closing
many streets that day. Yet others, like Quibdó and Bocas de Satinga, in
Colombia's Chocó rain forest, hold them in dugout canoes, on the banks of their
rivers.

Markets
dealing with animals can be the most comical, though they are often less
colorful and sweet-smelling. There the locals, surrounding by idlers, get so involved
bartering over a cow or a pig, vehemently defending their individual interests at
a foot from each other's faces, that they make me feel invisible. And there is
a whole study to be made on the way sheep and pigs are brought to market—tied
to, or pulled from, a bicycle; held up by their rear legs and pushed as
wheelbarrows; carried on the back in ponchos or on the head in baskets; hung by
the legs, head down, on the side of those dreadfully uncomfortable chivas, or ensconced
among packed passengers. I have seen twenty chickens inside a tied plastic bag,
each head emerging from a tiny hole given her to let her breathe. Surely the
chivas' owners have never ridden in the backs of their vehicles. No doubt the
farmers have never paused to study the near-human fear and indignation painted
on the faces of those poor animals. It would move them more deeply than even
their loudest protests.

And there
is more, for South American markets can also be great occasions for celebration.
For many South Americans, markets are not only places to buy fresh food and
barn animals, but also to see the healing-herb peddler, the lottery vendor, the
fortune teller, the card trickster, the snake handler, the cock fight, and of
course your old friends, often with accompanying music. When liquor gets into
the mix, a woman will take off her husband’s hat and place it on top of hers.
Hats are always the first things that drunkards lose.

If there
is any place outside home where food can be called homemade, it's at the South
American market. And it's the kind of
food your grandmother used to serve. Fresh and hot and wholesome—and aromatic
as the herbs and vegetables that go into their preparation. And clean too, for
the women prepare it in front of you. At
those markets there's always a chance to try something new, like the meat of
llamas, goats, or guinea pigs—or tacos,
tamales, arepas, sancochos, chupes de chivo, empanadas, locros, and papas a la Huancaina.

South
American markets have evolved with the times and with the fortunes of their
countries. Some markets, as in Otavalo (Ecuador) and Pisac (Peru), have become
so popular among foreign tourists that much of their wares are increasingly focused
on the needs of the newcomers. No
matter, like all markets, they say much about their countries.

San
Telmo Antiques Market in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

San
Telmo Antiques Market in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Carrying Sheep to market near Potosi, Bolivia

Quechua Indian vendor inside village market stall near Potosi, Bolivia.

Village market near Potosi, Bolivia.

Buying crabs at market in Salvador, Brazil.

Plantain transported by canoe from a houseboat on Brazil’s Rio Negro at Manaus is then carried on men’s backs to the market above the river.

In Silvia, a town of Colombia’s Cauca Deprtment, a Guambiano mother and
daughter are walking to the weekly market.

At Silvia, a town of Colombia’s Cauca Department, tipsy Guambiano
Indians return home from the market singing their happiness. The man on the
right carries a bottle of aguardiente, a sugarcane liquor favored by most
Colombians.

At Indian markets in South America, many men get drunk. As the first
things Guambiano Indians lose there are their
hats, their wives or daughters snatch them off their heads on arrival and keep them
safely over their own hats. Like the previous picture, this one was also taken
in Colombia’s Silvia.

Taking a horse to market in Sevilla, an Andean town in Colombia’s Cauca
Valley Department. The sign on the horse says Me Rifan con Libertador, meaning "They raffle me with
Libertador,” a lottery. That is, the Libertador lottery's winning number will also
decide who wins the small local raffled horse.

In Antioquia, a small Andean town in Colombia’s Antioquia Department, a
man carries home his market purchases on an ox past other people waiting for a
bus with their own adquisitions.

At the tomato market of El Peñol, in Colombia’s Antioquia State, farmers
await buyers while chatting over their crates. A ruana thrown over each man’s shoulder like the napkins used by restaurant
waiters, is always useful, even if only to wipe the sweat off their brows.

Talking business outside a café at the market of Fredonia, a small
Andean town in Colombia’s Antioquia Department.

Hat vendor at the plantain market of Armenia, a big Andean town in
Colombia’s QuindÍo
Department.

Plantain market at Armenia, a big Andean town in Colombia’s QuindÍo Department.
Refurbished World-War-Two Willys jeeps are the vehicles of choice. They can be
filled to their arches with plantain of coffee while giving six or more men
enough bars to hang on from the outside.

Near the Salvajina Dam, in the mountains of Colombia’s Cauca Department,
a chiva, or rural bus, built of wood over
a truck bed, is on its way to Cali with passengers and bundles of coffee.

Corn vendor circulating around the market of Colombia’s Caribbean city
of Cartagena.

On the way to market, this man is poling a coconut-filled canoe on a
mangrove-lined estuary on Colombia’s Pacific Coast near Guapi, in the Cauca
Department.

At the floating market of Quibdó, on Colombia's Atrato River in the Chocó rain forest,
Afro-American farmers are selling sugarcane, plantains, pineapples, and
coconuts.

At the floating market of Quibdó, on Colombia's Atrato River in the Chocó rain forest, Afro-American farmers are selling sugarcane, plantains, pineapples, and coconuts.

On market day at Otavalo, an Otavalo indian town in Ecuador’s Imbabura
Province, a tarot reader enhances his worldliness with a fake reduced Jivaro
head under a lamp globe. To the Andean crowd around him, Ecuador’s Jivaro are
as mysterious as Australia’s aborigines.

Melancholy seems to affect this Otavalo man and the piglet he bought at
Ecuador’s Otavalo market as they wait for a bus to bring them back home.

A snack-eating Otavalo Indian woman of the Ecuador town of Otavalo, in
Imbabura Province, peeks outside the tapestries she is selling at the local
market, which tourism has turned into Latin American’s largest and most popular.

Sitting outside a church at Ecuador’s city of Cuenca, Indian women are watching
the activity of a market.

Fruit and vegetable market in the Ecuador town of Cañar, in Cañar Province.

Fruit and vegetable market in the Ecuador town of Cañar, in Cañar Province.

Animal market in the Ecuador town of Riobamba, capital of the Chimborazo
Province.

Monday, November 24, 2014

In this 1970 picture taken in the Republic of Niger, Tuareg nomads en
route to Libya through the Sahara’s AÏr Mountains, stop to water sheep and goats.
They were part of a large caravan that included many camels that do no need to
drink before reaching their goal. In those days, oil-rich Libya paid
considerably more for Tuareg animals than did Niger, one of the world’s poorest
countries.

To
view more Tuareg photos on this blog, write the word in the search
box.

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Taking advantage of a warm sun, an indigenous woman bathes her daughter
outside her house in Chinchero, an Andean village in Peru’s Cusco Province. A
younger daughter is kept safely inside a wooden buggy.

To
view more Peru photos on this blog, write the word in the search
box.

Friday, November 21, 2014

A young Yanomami Indian family of Brazil’s Amazon rain forest shares a
meal of sliced plantain (cooking bananas) they pick from a pot with small
toothpick-like sticks. The Yanomami, who live comfortably working only an
average of two-and-a-half hours a day, spend much time in their hammocks.

To view
more Yanomami photos on this blog, write the word in the search box.

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